


Kisses from Sherlock

by eyesoflauramars (Andromede)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fic for MorbidbyDefault aka morbidmegz, Fluff, Friendship, Hershey's kisses, Molly's birthday, Sweet Sherlock, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromede/pseuds/eyesoflauramars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year Sherlock makes Molly having to work on her birthday a little bit sweeter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kisses from Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morbidmegz (MorbidbyDefault)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=morbidmegz+%28MorbidbyDefault%29).



In Sherlock Holmes’ opinion birthday’s were inconsequential occasions. He couldn’t see how knowing the exact date that someone was born could be useful in anyway–unless, of course one believed in astrology. The mere thought of that particular “science” made Sherlock eyes roll so far back in his head he could nearly see that superior brain of his. Sherlock didn’t bother committing anyone’s birthday to his memory, he wouldn’t want to take up valuable space on his hard drive on something so trivial–he could barely recall the date of his own birth.

There were, however, three exceptions to this rule: his mother, Violet Holmes, born 12th of December 1935, and his landlady-not his housekeeper-and somewhat surrogate mother, Mrs Hudson, born 1st of May 1937. He could justify to himself the reason he had retained these two birthdays; sociopath or not, a son always remembered his mother’s birthday, and his landlady’s. The third birthday that had affixed itself into his mind was not so simply explained. Sherlock didn’t have any good reason as to why, the 17th of October 1978 held its place as being the day that one Molly Hooper, his pathologist, was born. What was even more baffling to him was why on that date every year, for the past four years, he found himself popping into a specialty sweets shop  purchase a gift for the pathologist, but that’s exactly what he did.

**xoxo**

It seemed to Molly Hooper that she was destined to spend all of her birthdays–at least until retirement–at work. Not that it particularly bothered her, a lot of people had to work on their birthdays, and despite some believing being a pathologist a rather macabre profession, Molly loved her job. Still, it always made Molly feel a bit funny being surrounded by the deceased on the anniversary of her birth. It was sobering, and always put her in a pensive state, thinking about her own life. But, being the ever upbeat person that she was, Molly tried to push the sombre thoughts out of her head and focus on the fact that her mates were going to take her out to celebrate after work.

A smile came to Molly’s face as she remembered a night out wasn’t the only thing she had to look forward to at the end of the day.

For the last four years since Molly had come to work at St. Bart’s, on her birthday she had found a surprise waiting for her on her desk at days end: a small red velvet back, tied with a silk ribbon, containing a handful of little silver wrapped Hershey’s Kisses.

She had been stunned nearly to tears upon finding them the first time. She’d felt quite silly getting so emotional over bag of chocolates, but it had meant the world to Molly to know that someone had remembered, that they cared. She had been having a rough go of it at the time. She’d only just been a few months in London and with her shy nature hadn’t made friends quickly. It was also to be her first birthday since her father’s passing. Thinking about not having him there on her birthday sent her into a [depression](http://www.surfcanyon.com/search?f=sl&q=depression&p=wtigck) the likes of which she hadn’t experienced since his death. She’d cried herself to sleep the entire week leading up to it and was a complete wreck by the time the day came around.

Until she had walked into her office and saw that little bag sitting there. The gift made her not feel so desperately lonely for the first time since moving to London and she appreciated it more than words could say. She had practically torn her office apart looking for a note of some kind that would identify the person that had left it, but she never found one. She asked the few people in the hospital that she was mildly friendly with, but none of them had even known it was her birthday. Not even Mike Stamford, who had been her most likely suspect–for which he apologised profusely and had made it up to her with a bottle of too strong [perfume](http://www.surfcanyon.com/search?f=sl&q=perfume&p=wtigck) the next day. But he had been the one to suggest to her that perhaps she had a secret admirer.

As much as she wanted to thank the person for there gift, she was rather thrilled at the prospect of a secret admirer, especially having never have thought herself the type that could attract such a thing. A part of her hoped she never found out the identity of the person, she found the mystery exciting.

Molly peeled off her latex gloves and chucked them in the bin after finishing she final autopsy for the day and let out a long sigh of relief. She decided that her birthday present to herself this year would be to leave the paperwork till tomorrow. She was going to go home and have a nice long bath before her friends came round to fetch her. But first she had to stop by her office to collect her coat and special treat.

She could practically taste the sweet, milky chocolate melting in her mouth already. A smile of sheer bliss crossed her lips. When she entered her office, her smile dropped, as she looked upon her empty desk. She shuffled through some paperwork, thinking it might have gotten covered up, and checked round the floor and under the desk, but it just wasn’t there.

Frowning, Molly sank down into her chair, wondering what had made her secret admirer forget her this year.

_Maybe he no longer works at Bart’s_ , she considered, but a niggling thought in the back of her mind said it was more likely they just lost interest.

After pouting for a couple of moments, Molly shook off the disappointment, determined not to let her ruin her entire birthday.

_I’ve still got girls night to look forward to._

Molly let out a sigh and heaved herself up. She turned round to get her coat out of the cupboard. When she turned back, she gasped and nearly jumped a foot in the air, surprised to see Sherlock’s imposing figure filling the doorway.

“Sh-Sherlock,” she stammered breathlessly, putting a hand over her chest. She couldn’t believe he had entered so quietly. Typically his arrival was marked by the door being sent crashing into the wall. “You scared me. I didn’t know you were here.”

“I was just about to say the same to you,” he replied, slightly irritated. “You’re supposed to be performing an autopsy right now.”

It took Molly a moment to respond, taken aback by how annoyed he seemed that she was in her own office. But she reasoned, that was just Sherlock.

“Erm, well, yeah, I was scheduled for one more, but Dr. Howard came in early to take over and let me go early,” she explained.

“Oh, I see,” Sherlock remarked, still seeming perturbed. His lips pressed together and his brow furrowed.

A beat passed. Sherlock just stood there, staring off as he often did, thinking.

“Uh….was there something that you needed?” Molly ventured. “Help with an experiment or something or…I don’t know, coffee?”

“What?” Sherlock flicked his eyes back to Molly. “Oh, no, nothing,” he dismissed and looked away again.

“Oh, okay,” Molly murmured. Normally whenever Sherlock would turned down her offers of assistance, Molly would just slink away and let him alone, but seeing how he was currently blocking the only exit, that wasn’t an option.

Molly became worried as the moment stretched out, hoping that Sherlock hadn’t gone into his “Mind Palace”. She knew from experience that he could spend hours there, virtually unreachable to the world outside. She really didn’t fancy being trapped in her office all night.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as she tried to muster up the courage to ask him to let her by. Had it been anyone else she simply would have said “Pardon me, please,” but she became timid with the prospect of being met with Sherlock’s piercing, reproachful glare. She was relieved when Sherlock clucked his tongue and let out a put upon sigh.

Sherlock turned his head to look at Molly. “Well I prefer to do this while you’re not about, in order to avoid any emotional displays, but your presence ruins that plan,” he said.

“Er…sorry?” Molly replied, not knowing what she was apologising for, but Sherlock’s aggrieved attitude made her feel like she needed to.

Sherlock shrugged. “It’s no matter, I suppose.” He sighed again. “Well, being as you are here, I may as well give you this now rather than waiting for you to go to leave them,” he said, dipping his hand into his coat pocket.

Molly’s brow crinkled as she watched him. She gasped when he lifted his hand and she saw he was holding a small red velvet bag. She stared at it dumbly, blinking in disbelief. “You…” she uttered in wonder. “You’re the one that’s been leaving me the chocolates all this time?”

“Yes,” Sherlock stoically informed. “I am. A couple months in to your first year here at Bart’s, you fell into a depression. You were crying almost constantly. It was quite difficult for me to concentrate properly on my experiments whilst listening to you sob and sniffle. And you were absolutely useless as an assistant. Fed up, I took to look in your file to see if there was any mention of previous clinical depression, upon doing so I discovered it was near your birthday, a day that normal people hold in significant regard, for some reason. I reasoned that the reason for your being so down might be related to you feeling isolated in a new city, and it was likely the first time you had been away from your family on your birthday. So, in effort to improve you mood, in the hopes of conducting my work in peace and quiet, I decided to get you a present. I picked chocolate as it increases endorphins in the brain, and produces the same chemical reaction as being ‘in love’ does. They seemed the best choice.”

“Oh,” Molly remarked, nodding her head, though she had only half heard what Sherlock was saying. It was hard to listen to him over her brain screaming: SHERLOCK HOLMES IS MY SECRET ADMIRER!

“Well,” Sherlock said impatiently, “do you want them are not.” He gave the bag dangling between his thumb and forefinger a shake.

Molly snapped herself out of her giddy revelry. “Oh, yes! Of course I do.” She quickly came round her desk to Sherlock and took the bag from him, cradling it in her hands as though it were something precious. “Thank you, so much, Sherlock,” she gushed. Doing what came naturally to her after receiving a gift from someone, Molly lifted herself on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against Sherlock’s cheek. She felt him go rigid instantly and pulled away, her cheeks flaming and she could have sworn she saw the faintest hint of crimson in Sherlock’s face as well.

Sherlock cleared his throat crisply. “Yes, well, that’s fine,” he said. There was a pause and Sherlock sucked in a deep breath. “Well, I must be off, experiments, cases, you know. Happy birthday, Dr. Hooper.” He gave her a sharp nod and swivelled around, striding quickly out of her office.

Molly lips stretched wide in a cheek-aching smile as she watched him walk away. After all this time of fantasising what it would be like to get a kiss from Sherlock, she finds out he’s already given her dozens, and they were sweeter than she ever imagined.

The End.


End file.
